Irises of Grey
by MrPadfoot1
Summary: Two brothers, separated by ideologies and beliefs regarding the Wizarding World, are approached to raise a one year old, orphaned Harry Potter. AU Harry Potter at Hogwarts. No slash
1. Chapter 1

A/N

J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter in every way, I'm just here to write.

Rated M for language and later sexual situations.

Chapter 1

23:00, October 31, 1981

" _Shit!"_

Flashes of color streaked past the fleeing man as he ran down an unfamiliar dark alley, ducking off of the main road. Had his situation not been so dire, he might have chuckled at his earlier thought. He may have even scolded himself, as his upbringing forbade the use of such "language."

As he ran through the light of a street lamp, his features were thrown into sharp relief. He had an attractive face, with high cheekbones and dimples that hadn't disappeared even as he frowned. His black hair was stylishly cut short, mainly for practicality. He looked to be around 18, if it weren't for his eyes. He had iron grey irises that held the pain and weight of a man more than double his age. To top off his "look" he wore pinstriped navy-blue robes with a powder blue shirt and a red tie that were all drenched in sweat and covered in grime. The knee was torn on one side and blood flowed freely down his shin.

"Give it up, Black!" another man's voice echoed down the alley. "We've got you surrounded!"

Regulus Black listened closely and debated peeking around the dumpster he had taken cover behind. He knew better than to listen to Rudolphus. If they'd had him surrounded, they wouldn't be chasing him quite so hard.

His inner-musings were brought up short when the metal container rocked with a resounding gong-like noise and exploded outwards, metal shrapnel digging into his back and hamstring. The exploding hex was followed shortly by the cackling laugh of a female as he limped further down the alley.

"Ah," he muttered under his breath as he ran, "They've even let Bella off of her leash tonight."

Regulus ached and was out of breath as he sprinted onto another, smaller road. His handmade leather shoes weren't exactly made for evasion.

Eyes darting around, he immediately made towards a sturdy-looking two story brick house whose windows were blackened out. More importantly, these particular Muggles had a fence that would buy him precious time.

With a thought, Regulus jabbed his wand at the gate leading into the back gardens and let himself in, making sure to lock it back in place to throw off his pursuers. Perhaps they'd even overlook him entirely.

He concentrated as he strode towards the bright yellow shed and waved his wand in several, complex motions and shuddered as the Disillusionment Charm took hold.

With a pained grunt, Regulus Arcturus Black tried to apparate once more, focusing on the dark forest he used to explore a few kilometers from his family's home in the country. As he had feared, the Death Eaters still had the wards in place that prevented his exit.

As he squatted between some wilting petunias and hydrangeas, he furiously thought about where he could run and regroup.

His mother's was out of the question, she'd either kill him or call the Dark Lord if she found out he'd defected. The Ministry was quickly scrapped as well, given the wards that vaporized anyone with a Dark Mark, as his former friend Edward Davis had painfully discovered. He vigorously shook his head when he thought of running to the Order.

" _I'd rather die than admit the old man was right,"_ he thought to himself. " _Next thing you know, Dumbledore has me running errands for him like some commoner,"_ he shuddered again, this time having nothing to do with his invisibility charm.

He pulled himself from his thoughts as he heard voices and footsteps once more.

"Spread out, the lot of you. Pettigrew, check those houses across the way there. Travers, stick by him and make sure he doesn't fuck it all to hell. Dolohov, go up the way and cover the play park. Bella and I will check these houses on the right. Kill any Muggles who step out of their houses. Send up the Mark if you find him, and remember, we're not to kill him. The Dark Lord wants to question the little shit personally."

Regulus knew he could take Pettigrew, but he wasn't sure about Travers, given his current injured state. Besides, the others would swarm the place as soon as they heard the sounds of battle, and to be questioned by the Dark Lord meant swift and brutal interrogation, with no chance of hiding information or living through the experience.

There was a growing cold on his chest, and he feared they'd even brought dementors to aid their search. He tried to get a glimpse of fog or maybe ice in the cloudless sky and on the ground around him.

But then he remembered the necklace he'd worn for three years. He'd almost forgotten he had it, as it had become as much a part of him as his own left arm. It had been from Sirius. From before.

He could remember receiving it as if it was yesterday.

 _12:00, June 31, 1978_

 _It had been after the Hogwarts Graduation ceremony in 1978. Sirius had separated himself from his ever-present friends and jogged over to him, his long locks flopping. Sirius had never been one for displays of affection, friendly or romantic. He'd simply held out his hand, with that damned glint in his eyes, and dropped something into Regulus's open palm._

" _If mum ever gets too rough, just turn the head and say 'Padfoot.' It'll bring you to my place."_

 _Without another word he'd strode off towards Potter and the rest, leaving him bewildered and more than a little grateful._

 _He looked at the sturdy, silver chain and the dog attached to it, and shook his head at his brother's antics._

A creaking of the gate he'd disabled earlier brought him back to the present.

"Pettigrew, go check the shed," came the voice of Travers, "I'll cover you from here."

Footsteps approached his position, and he cursed himself, knowing the slight waver of the Disillusionment would give him away. He knew he had to act quickly.

Regulus grit his teeth and prayed that his former comrades hadn't thought to ward against Portkeys. As Peter reached the shed door, he seemed to be arguing with himself, hand paused over the handle.

Fast a snake, Regulus darted from between the flowers, Irish Greyhound necklace in hand, the head already turned. He simultaneously thrust his wand towards his unsuspecting foe and a beam of red light connected with Pettigrew's back.

He grabbed Pettigrew's arm and shouted "Padfoot!" feeling a touch absurd as he did so, and felt something cut deeply into his chest as the he felt the pull from his navel.

With a crash, he landed at his destination. He looked at his rather odd surroundings, drinking in the clash of Muggle and magical in the large room.

He pressed a hand to his side where he had felt the cutter nail him and sent another stunner into Pettigrew.

The dark red stain was flowing through his fingers and into the expensive shirt and robe his father had gifted him towards his already ruined pants and he turned towards the softest whisper and found himself looking down the end of a familiar wand.

As he locked eyes with his brother for the first time since June 31st, 1978, he felt his head swimming, and saw the ground rushing up to meet him.

All he heard was "Reggie?" as darkness engulfed him.

(*v*) (*v*) (*v*)

A/N (these "birds"will now signify a line break)

Sirius Orion Black was frustrated. He was laying on his couch, tossing his trusty quaffle to himself, tuning out the football match between Manchester United and Chelsea that was blaring out of his speakers attached to his telly.

For nearly nine months he'd been forced to stay in his flat. Barring his little "excursions" into Muggle London under the influence of Polyjuice, he hadn't been able to go anywhere or communicate with people who weren't cleared by the Order. He'd quickly realized this meant the Marauders, Lily, and a large number of people fifty years plus his senior.

" _Joy,"_ he remembered thinking to himself when an overeager Elphias Doge regaled him with a story about himself and a much younger Albus Dumbledore when asked to check up him.

With the help of Moody, Dumbledore, and _obviously_ his fellow Marauders, he'd completely transformed what had started as a one-bedroom flat into what he called "The Doghouse."

He'd consulted with Moody via floo call about what to do with the place, and the auror had an endless supply of suggestions on how to properly secure his living quarters. Sirius took them all to heart.

Then he'd reasoned with the Headmaster, stating that if he were to be completely safe from filthy mongrels like the Death Eaters, they'd need to renovate. Dumbledore had laughed at that and made a swift rebuttal about filthy mongrels, but acquiesced. His eyes had twinkled merrily when the eldest Black son had given him the three meter roll of parchment with the layout he wanted, including the charms and materials outside his field of expertise.

"You've been speaking with Alastor," was all he'd said before smiling once again, offering him something called a lemon drop (he'd declined), and disappearing into the newly conjured obsidian fireplace.

Sirius looked around, smirking to himself at the unbridled potential the place now held.

The Headmaster had expanded it to the size of a small warehouse, changing the flooring to a polished hardwood. The walls had all been charmed into mirrors that were magically resistant and would reflect spells, should the need arise. The lighting had been entirely replaced with industrial fluorescent lights, that operated on magic, rather than electricity, and could be controlled with his wand, instead of a pesky switch.

The Fidilius had been removed, and replaced with a series of intent-based wards, that would only inflict pain and even death on those who intended to him harm. He'd also added a combination of befuddling, muggle repelling, and "special" wards that were most certainly harder to break than a Fidilius.

Of course, the only reason he had the flat in the first place was thanks to his dear old dad, who'd refused to officially disown him back in his sixth year, against his mother's wishes.

What his dad hadn't known at the time was that by leaving him as the heir to his titles and properties, he'd essentially given him unfettered access to everything in the family.

He thought himself _awfully_ polite by only helping himself to a few ten-thousand galleons.

"Better to spend it on me than on Voldemort's campaign for Minister!" he'd always joked to Prongs and Moony.

From there he'd innovated the entire space into one, unending room. He'd bought all the latest muggle appliances for his kitchen, and had his newly hired house elf Pokey (you certainly didn't expect him to do it all on his own, did you!?) lay black granite for countertops and close off the space from the rest of the place.

He'd also designed a comfortable living space, a loft sort of bedroom, and a full-sized Muggle automotive garage.

With some help from Lily, he'd managed to make Muggle technology work in a magically-saturated area, and owed his remaining sanity to his telly and motorbike. He'd picked up football and rugby, but didn't understand for the life of him how men _running_ about on the ground trying to _kick_ only _one_ ball into a single goal was more entertaining than quidditch. Bonkers, the lot of them. At least rugby players were allowed to crash spectacularly into one another.

Forcing himself to set down the scarlet ball and return to the present once more, he begrudgingly made himself return to the football match.

He was once again quickly growing bored of the players in red and blue and their inability to score, and was debating going to tweak the newest addition to his motorbike when...

CRASH!

He was on the alert immediately, wand flicked from his wrist holster as he sprang from the large black leather couch and fluidly ducked behind it.

He hastily darkened the lights and baited his magical traps with two soundless flicks of his wand.

He palmed the device in his left hand of the Marauders' and Moody's design, rather like a magical grenade, called the pineapple (" _This is why Wormtail isn't allowed to name things!"_ ). Sirius sprinted at a crouch towards the front door, where the sound had come from.

His wards hadn't been tripped, but he knew he couldn't be too cautious, especially after what had happened to the Prewett twins a few months back in their own home. Moony had said cleaning up the blood and gore had taken hours, and that hadn't included the other damages.

With that thought, he rolled out from behind his refrigerator and pointed his wand towards the intruder, ready to curse them to kingdom-come and hurl his "pineapple" at the same time.

When he locked eyes with who it was, his wand fell limply to his side and the magical discharger fell forgotten onto the floor with a dull thud as confusion swept over him.

Then he noticed the condition his brother was in, blood rapidly draining onto the floor and all over his finery. Not to mention the gruesome, jagged blue pieces of metal sticking out of his back and legs. He barely registered the stunned Death Eater on the floor when another wave of bewilderment once again came over him.

"Reggie?"

With that, he came to his senses and stunned his younger brother, stepped towards his fireplace, and went to find out just what was happening on this rather unusual Halloween night.

(*v*) (*v*) (*v*)

 _A/N: Hey guys, Mr. P here. This is going to be my first full length Fanfiction. As you can see I'm trying to develop Sirius and Regulus a bit before launching into the Harry part of the story. BUT don't worry, that will come next chapter!_

 _Just let me know what you lot think and I'm aiming to have another chapter in a couple of days here. Leave me a review and do let me know where you think this story should go!_

 _Thanks again,_

 _Mr. P_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'm going to be making this chapter and future chapters longer (maybe 5k or more?), but I didn't want the first one to overwhelm the rest of the story._

 _When in regular conversation, italics will signify the thoughts of the character. And italics will also show when there is a flashback. If there any questions, please let me know in a comment._

 _Again, this story is rated M. The chapter may be a bit dark and gory. You've been forewarned._

 _J.K. Rowling owns everything, I'm just mucking about in her playground, as it were._

Chapter 2

04:00, November 1, 1981

Sirius Black sat at the bar in his kitchen, shock portrayed onto his features. His normally dark skin was pale, and tear tracks ran unmarred down his handsome, aristocratic features. His hair was unkempt, and there were purple bags beneath his eyes. An almost-empty bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey sat forgotten in his bloodied hand.

In the other was a small moving picture with two adults and a small child. His dark eyes were glued to it.

"Prongs... Lily..." he whispered, tears beginning to flow freely once more.

 _Four hours earlier_

 _Dumbledore stepped out of the black fireplace, siphoning dust off of his midnight blue robes bedazzled with stars silently as he walked. There was no hint of the customary twinkle in his eyes, and his expression was somber._

" _Dumbledore!" a now fully-dressed and vigilant Sirius strode towards the fireplace. "You got my Patronus message then? Reggie appeared here not twenty minutes ago covered in blood with another Death Muncher! I've got them bound and stunned over_"_

" _Sirius, m'boy," the older man interjected. "I did indeed receive your message. However, I had to make another stop on my way here. There was a major displacement of raw magic at Godric's Hollow," he cut himself off, unsure of how to continue._

" _Well!? Let's go then! I'll grab Moony and_"_

" _Sirius, I visited the property as soon as I felt the Fidilius fall. Lily and James..."_

" _The Fidilius fell? But then," the answer seemed to come to him. "No. NO!" came the hysterical reply. Sirius shoved his hand in his pocket, searching for his wand, desperately wanting to see proof that his former Headmaster was wrong. That they were safe._

 _With a small pop, Sirius reappeared at what remained of the front gate of the small cottage his best friend and his family had been hiding for the better part of a year._

 _The upper floor was half-destroyed, the damages seeming to originate from the nursery. All of James's traps had been sprung, but there was no blood on the transfigured spikes, no bodies caught in the electrical cages. The score of stone statues they'd animated together were dismantled, from the formerly proud lion to the previously massive rhino. The gate he had appeared next to was blown from its hinges, the bars some fifty meters away, buried deep in the dirt._

 _Sirius barely registered Dumbledore's apparition behind him as he sprinted towards the door, moaning in despair as he got close enough to see the completely obliterated frame where the door had sat not two days ago._

" _Sirius...perhaps_" began Dumbledore._

" _JAMES!?" he bellowed. "LILY! HARRY!"_

 _Dumbledore took a deep breath and followed followed him into the ruined house._

 _Sirius had already bolted inside the small entrance hall, ebony wand frantically throwing light where his eyes could not see. If the outside of the home was a battle, then the inside was a warzone. He could literally_ feel _the tingle of magical residue._

 _As his wand lit up the room, he barely took note of the exploded furniture, the shattered pieces of glass, and the blood smeared onto the far wall and the floor behind the remainder of what appeared to be the green armchair he used to sit in when visiting his friends. His family._

 _As he stepped past the armchair, he fell to his knees._

 _James Potter, father, husband, and best friend, lay dead near the foot of the stairs, wand still in his hand, and pained look etched on his face. He'd obviously given as good as he gave. There was still blood leaking from numerous cuts on his face, caused by glass being hurled at him, if the remaining shards in his cheek were to go by. His right arm had been severed at the elbow, and the rest of the limb lay blackened and charred in the corner of the room, never again to be used. The entirety of his body was covered in bruises and countless lacerations, almost as if he'd been whipped._

 _Sirius began to paw at his best friend's remaining limb with shaky hands, mouth opening and shutting mutely in shock as he noticed the gore still slowly dripping from Prongs's ears, a certain sign of prolonged Cruciatus exposure._

" _Prongs! PRONGS ANSWER ME! You promised you wouldn't leave me! Prongs please wake up. Please. Please." He prayed and pleaded that this was some sick joke. That James would laugh at his distraught expression and reattach his arm with a spell._

 _Tears raced down the elder Black son's cheeks and onto the floor, marring the red mass of blood with drops of salty water._

 _He heard footsteps behind him, and felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius, we cannot remain here. Voldemort's followers_"_

" _LILY! Where's Lily!? And Harry!?" the pale-faced man pleaded, still holding the cold hand like a lifeline._

 _Without waiting for a reply, he raced up the stairs, fearing the worst. The blood of his best friend had splattered up the first dozen steps._

 _Holding his wand aloft, he hurried from the corridor to the guest bedroom. To the playroom. To the study._

 _He mentally ticked each room off, and the lack of destruction and rapidly-cooling corpses made him dare to hope._

 _None of the rooms looked nearly as deliberately destroyed as the sitting room or the lawn had, and the glimmer of hope began to swell in Sirius's chest. Maybe...just maybe they'd fought him off, or even made it out to another safe house while James took the invaders head on._

 _But as he rushed into the nursery, his heart stopped once more._

 _Lily Potter's fiery red hair framed her face like a blazing inferno. Her features forever frozen in a pleading, shocked expression, the Avada Kedavra extinguishing her forever. While she hadn't suffered physically like James had, it was clear she had attempted to keep the intruder out. Shelves, a smaller wardrobe, and every other piece of furniture had been stacked against the door and then forcibly banished away._

 _He softly cradled her head and began to sob at the injustice in the world._

" _Sirius," a firm voice came from behind him. "We can take them away from this place, but we must leave at once."_

 _Sirius looked up from his mourning to see Dumbledore slightly crouched, squinting towards the edge of the property through the gaping hole that had been made through the walls and ceiling, causing more than half the floor to crumble into the rooms below._

" _Where's Harry?" intoned Sirius._

" _He is with Hagrid. He survived this terrible ordeal and from what my initial scans suggest, he has vanquished Lord Voldemort, for now."_

 _The younger man's astonished face asked his unvoiced questions for him._

" _From what I can tell, he no longer exists on this plane. He will return, if aided, but he is defeated," Dumbledore further explained._

" _Let me call a Potter elf to move James and Lily to the family cemetery. Then we can meet back at my flat and discuss this further," Sirius said._

Present

"Can Pokey be getting anythings for Master Sirius?" a worried house elf's voice came from beside him.

His master either did not hear him or ignored him, so the small being popped away and returned with a tall glass of water and a large sandwich. The almost-empty bottle mysteriously disappeared with the elf when he snapped his fingers and disappeared for the second time.

Eventually, Sirius looked up and saw the food and drink. He ignored the offered sandwich, but drained the glass of water and thought back to the second shocking series of events that had come immediately following the first.

 _Upon arrival at The Doghouse_

" _So you mean to tell me that Voldemort walked through almost every single wizard, Muggle, and magical being he had ever encountered, to be stopped by a toddler?" Sirius asked for what felt like the hundredth time._

" _Yes, I have a hypothesis, as I said earlier, that Lily unintentionally called up an ancient defensive magic when she sacrificed herself for young Harry," Dumbledore explained again. "By doing so, Voldemort's spell, an Avada Kedavra, as our current evidence would suggest, rebounded back upon him, ripping his soul from his body."_

" _So...he's dead?" Sirius asked in wishful tone._

" _That's where you've got it wrong," said a third voice, echoing from the back of the room._

 _Sirius turned abruptly to stare at his brother._

"I'd forgotten he was there," _Sirius reprimanded himself. He cleared the space between himself and Regulus in distance-eating strides._

" _Talk. Now." He followed his statement by jabbing his wand into his brother's neck. "Don't make me hurt you, Reggie."_

 _Regulus merely smiled at the threat, and began to speak. "The Dark Lord has created containers to harbor his soul, in order to make himself immortal. He was constantly going on about his conquering of death, so I did some digging in the family library and in the ranks and finally came across the term 'Horcrux.'"_

" _Impossible."_

" _You may think so, big brother, but after following my research and some leads, I found one and deserted. That's why I came here earlier, the Dark Lord knew that I had found his secret and put a hit out on me. I have proof. Front left pocket of my outer robe. Password on it is 'Shadow.'"_

 _Regulus nodded his head towards his pinstriped robe that Sirius had hung on a hook near the door after stabilizing him earlier._

 _Dumbledore summoned the aforementioned robe to him, gave the password, and pulled out a heavy, golden locket that was inlaid with emeralds in an ornate S._

" _Would you mind if I questioned you under Veritaserum?" asked Dumbledore, who sat with his fingers steepled in front of him with his chin resting on his thumbs. "I am somewhat familiar with Horcruxes, but obtaining the information will be more expedient this way."_

 _Regulus gave an affirmative nod and the Headmaster placed three drops from a small vial on the younger man's tongue._

" _What is your full name?" Dumbledore asked, once Regulus's eyes had glazed over._

" _Regulus Arcturus Black."_

" _What do you know of Horcruxes?"_

" _After a supreme act of evil, murder or rape, for instance, a powerful dark wizard can complete a series of rituals and tear a piece of his soul and place it in an object. If the soul in the host body is destroyed, another ritual can be completed and the soul from the object can be returned into the dead body or a new body can be risen, if there is a willing human sacrifice."_

 _Dumbledore and Sirius both frowned at this confirmation._

" _Did Voldemort create any Horcruxes? If so, how many have you discovered?" whispered Sirius, fearing the answer he might receive._

" _Yes. At least four, apart from the soul in his body that was apparently destroyed tonight, from what I overheard. The only one I was able to obtain any information on is now lying on the table in Sirius's garage. I retrieved it from a cave on the coast near a Muggle village."_

" _Have you truly turned away from the dark? For good?" Sirius asked, hope once again edging its way into his voice._

" _There is no dark or light, merely intent. But I have shed the darker aspects of magic," came his brother's dutiful response._

 _Sirius reached forward and embraced his brother, glad he had someone on whom he could still rely._

 _Regulus shook his head from inside his brother's arms, almost as if waterlogged, and his eyes cleared once more._

 _Those same eyes narrowed at the now-moving form of Peter Pettigrew._

" _You should be able to remove the mask on him now," motioning towards Pettigrew. "If the Dark Lord has truly fallen. The magic he placed on the Death Eater's masks that prevented forceful removal should be proof enough that his soul has been destroyed in his original body," Regulus said, beginning to fear his brother's reaction who was under the mask in the corner._

 _Dumbledore seemed to have some idea about the identity of the masked figure who was now struggling in his bindings, and he flicked his wand at the robed Death Eater, revealing the sweating, pale face of Peter Pettigrew._

(*v*) (*v*) (*v*)

10:00, November 20, 1981

Storm clouds gathered over Potter Manor, which was located at an undisclosed location in Southern Scotland. Lightning danced between the dark grey clouds, promising rain before noon.

From his location in front of the graves of his best friends, Sirius took a moment to admire the mountainous scene surrounding the manor. The oranges and reds of autumn were quickly giving way to the barrenness of winter. Winds whipped at his hair and black robes, the smell of precipitation invading his nostrils.

Peter Pettigrew had been sentenced life in prison, despite giving the names of more than two dozen other confirmed Death Eaters including the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr., whose identities and actions had been swiftly condemned by the Wizengamot.

The entirety of the Wizarding community of Great Britain celebrated the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort, throwing feasts and parties for weeks to commemorate the end of his reign.

Sirius shook his head slowly.

" _Selfish bastards,"_ he thought to himself.

He looked down at the bundle in his arms allowed himself a brief smile. Harry Potter lived on, and after several heated arguments with the Headmaster over security, he had full custody of his godson.

Another figure walked up beside him and knelt in front of the graves, setting down a bouquet of a dozen black roses on each mound of recently disturbed earth.

"I'm with you, brother. We will raise him as they would have wanted. He will be a warrior, and if the Dark Lord does return, we three will vanquish him."

Sirius turned and locked gazes with his now eighteen year old brother. He gave him a stiff nod, and as one, they turned from the gravesite and disappeared from the picturesque Scottish countryside with a pop.

Lightning flashed and thunder began to rumble across the valley. Rain began to pour onto the graves and flowers, dripping onto the soil below.

A storm was coming.

(*v*) (*v*) (*v*)

15:00, February 20, 1984

"You're sure, brother?" Regulus quietly asked his elder brother.

"Yes, Reggie. I've told you a million times, if he's to inherit fully one day from both sides, we have to go through with the adoption ritual. He'll be equally Potter and Black that way," Sirius murmured in response to his brother.

The two sat in front of a small desk inside Gringotts, and their account manager had disappeared to retrieve the final paperwork needed to move forward with the ritual.

A now four year old Harry Potter played quietly with a toy dragon and hippogriff quietly in the corner of the office. He was making small noises to imitate the sounds of the animals under his breath, and he seemed to be favoring his dragon, as it "snapped" the neck of the hippogriff, giving a mighty "roar" at its victory.

Catching both of his uncles looking at him and conversing quietly, the toddler blushed and held his toys up, silently gesturing for them to join him in his duel between the two beasts.

Sirius motioned for him to come to him, and plopped him in his lap. Regulus straightened his small dress robes he'd been forced into earlier that day, insisting on "proper attire" while Sirius rolled his eyes at his brother's display.

"Harry, today is the day. We're going to formally adopt you into our family. Are you excited?" asked Sirius.

Harry grinned up at his uncle, nodding vigorously. He knew in order to keep the mean people away, he needed to do whatever his uncle said.

"I'm ready Unca! Then we can have ice cream?"

Regulus chuckled and Sirius just ruffled his hair. "Of course. Only if you sit still, just like at the Healer's, fair enough?"

Harry just giggled and nodded once more, continuing his game in Sirius's lap, who pulled a Sphinx from within his pocket and enthusiastically joined in.

A few minutes later, a side door opened and three goblins entered the room, including Goldknuckle, the joint account manager for the Potter and Black accounts.

"Everything seems to be in order, my Lord. Are we ready to proceed?" inquired the goblin.

Sirius looked at his brother, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"We are. Let us begin, Goldknuckle."

(*v*) (*v*) (*v*)

06:00, December 20, 1989

A bleary-eyed, nine year old Harry James Potter-Black rolled out of bed, mentally cursing his uncles as he did so.

He stifled a yawn behind his hand and shuffled into the loo, rubbing sleep out of his eyes the whole way. As he reached for the door handle, he felt a tingle, and ducked while rolling randomly toward the left, making eye eye contact with his Uncle Sirius who was the perpetrator behind the stinging hex sent his way.

"Almost had me there, Paddy," laughed Harry.

"Excellent reflexes there Prongslet. Although, if you would've been paying closer attention, you could have easily seen me lounging in the hammock the whole time," fired back twenty seven year old Sirius Black.

Harry merely stuck out his tongue and bolted for the loo, determined to make it before his uncle could regain his bearings.

As he slammed the door, Sirius gave another bark of laughter and began to make his way over towards the muggle fitness center he and Regulus had installed five years back to focus on overall fitness and muggle martial arts.

It had originally been Regulus's idea to make a "game" out of tagging Harry with an extremely mild stinging hex in order to work on his preliminary dodging skills.

That, added to his weekday regimen of sciences, basic maths, Muggle and wizarding history and culture, etiquette, linguistics, grammar, and martial arts had transformed Harry into a very able student. He seemed to absorb almost everything they could throw at him.

Starting after the Christmas holidays, he and Reggie had agreed to teach him some basics of magic, starting with theory of transfiguration, charms, potions, and defense against the dark arts, in order to build his core understanding. It would make his time at school far easier.

His ears perked as he heard the telltale creak of the bathroom door, and he knew he'd shortly be joined by his student.

"What're we doing today, Uncle?" asked the young boy.

Sirius examined him with pride. He stood taller than most children his age, and showed promise of remaining taller than his peers, if the Healers were to be believed. His black, unruly locks had been tamed to a shorter style, as to not get in the way of their sparring and science experiments.

He stood proud and straight, as Regulus had instructed him, and even then, he stood on the balls of his feet, legs spread and ready pounce and dodge. He wore the finest robes money could buy, today having selected one of his many Tutshill Tornadoes t-shirts beneath a matching sky blue robe with blue jeans and white athletic trainers.

His eyes were what startled Sirius most. They were swirling pools of dark grey, identical to his and Reggie's, but with flecks of bright green flashing through, especially when he performed accidental magic. On those occurrences, they'd almost glowed green with untold power.

"Today, my young padawan, we shall be starting with a sparring session, focusing on your striking attacks to the body. Then, we'll be finishing our lesson on the modern history of Lord Voldemort, followed by a quick lunch. And if you promise not to tell Uncle Regulus, we'll take the afternoon off and go Christmas shopping for everyone we've missed."

Harry's eyes lit up at the mention of shopping, and Sirius felt himself smile. They wordlessly took their places on the mat, and their day began.

(*v*) (*v*) (*v*)

Later that day, following a belt-busting lunch prepared by Pokey, Sirius and Harry weaved their way through the crowds in Diagon Alley.

They had both immediately taken off towards Quality Quidditch Supplies and spent the better part of an hour fawning over the new Cleansweep model (Sirius had quietly had one sent to the flat via owl order for his nephew).

After making their purchases there, the two had agreed to order Professor Dumbledore a set of wizarding robes in what Muggles called "tie-die," with a matching hat. Harry had come up with the idea, and Sirius was certain the Headmaster would cherish them much like the bright yellow ones from last year.

They then found themselves wandering into Muggle London after a run-in with some particularly mouthy and nosy reporters. (" _If my godson wasn't here, I swear I'd hex you into next month, feel free to quote me. I'll have your job before you can get it published.")_

He'd guided them into a smaller alley a short distance from the Leaky Cauldron before taking Harry's hand and apparating them to the top floor of a parking garage of a large muggle mall to quietly finish their shopping.

Once they'd finally finished purchasing the remainder of their gifts, the pair met Regulus at The Doghouse, where the three had each taken over a separate part of the warehouse, intent on wrapping their gifts away from prying eyes.

Much later that night, as Harry Potter-Black snored softly in his large four-poster bed, Sirius and Regulus silently watched their adopted nephew as he slumbered.

"You think we're doing the right thing, Reg?" asked Sirius. He'd often had doubts about taking away Harry's childhood, guilt gnawing at him as he tried to sleep at night.

"It's not like he doesn't interact with peers. He legitimately enjoys learning, and we're giving him the best preparation we can. If this isn't the right thing, then I don't know what is."

Regulus had taken to teaching Harry as much as he possibly could about the ins and outs of the wizarding world, and he knew he would flourish one day.

"Go get some sleep Sirius, you look like you need it."

"Sod off, prick," he shot back immediately with a chuckle.

With that, Regulus apparated back to his flat, and Sirius slept better than he had in months, dreaming about the day Tom Riddle's final Horcrux was destroyed and avenging his best friends.

(*v*) (*v*) (*v*)

12:00, August 20, 1991

"Sirius!"

Sirius continued to weld on the exhaust pipe of his newest restoration project, attempting one of his own ideas.

"Sirius!"

He finished up the weld and began to air guitar as a particularly upbeat guitar solo started on his magically modified hearing protection. He set the welder down and began jumping up and down and head-banging when the double bass began pumping into his ears.

"OI! PADFOOT!"

By now, Sirius was on his knees, still air strumming his fake guitar as the song came to the chorus once more, and he belted out the lyrics as loud as he could.

Harry finally gave up and threw a quaffle at his unresponsive uncle, who flew around, small rubber mallet that he'd been "playing" earlier brandished before him like a sword.

"Oh, hey Harry. Didn't expect you back so early."

"Can we go to Diagon? Please please please please please please!?" The eleven year old said it all so fast Sirius had trouble understanding exactly what he'd said.

Then it dawned on him that he'd promised earlier that week, when Harry's Hogwarts letter had arrived, that today was the day he'd take him into Diagon for his school things.

"Yeah, let me finish this bit up, and you go change into some proper attire, and we can leave right after."

Harry hadn't waited to hear his uncle finished, as soon as he'd heard the affirmative "yeah," he'd sprinted off towards his wardrobe and began flinging robes onto his bed with reckless abandon.

Sirius chuckled and shook his head exasperatedly at his nephew's enthusiasm. With a quick wave of his wand, the motor grease and sweat vanished from his body, a pine scent replacing the offending odors.

By the time he'd waved his wand again and switched his mechanic's coveralls with black acromantula silk robes, shirt, and tie, Harry stood straight at attention, with the Floo jar out in front of him, beckoning Sirius to take some so they could leave.

The pair stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron ash-free and Sirius tapped the bricks that would grant them access to the Alley.

Harry gripped his supplies list to his chest, looking the picture of calm in his charcoal grey robes with a white shirt and a purple tie. Sirius knew better. His nephew's eyes were alight with joy and excitement, despite his "act" that Regulus had drilled him to use when around strangers.

They skipped over a few of the stops, like the apothecary, as Harry already had a cauldron and scales back at the flat.

They still stopped by Flourish and Blott's, where the manager recognized them and pointed them in the direction of the newer texts they had in stock. Harry had already read the course books up through first and second year, so he didn't need to make any school-related purchases.

That didn't stop him from getting the newest edition of Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander (he'd always been fascinated by magical creatures and their abilities) and an assortment of other books that he could read in his free time.

Their next stop was Madame Malkin's, where they were regular patrons, and Sirius trusted her enough to leave Harry there unsupervised to go have an ale with Moony and Uncle Regulus at the Leaky Cauldron.

With an "I'll leave him with you for say, thirty minutes?" and a charming smile, Sirius strutted out of the store, leaving a slightly red Madame Malkin to show him over to a stool where she could begin his measurements.

There was a pretty blonde girl on the stool next to him, and she glared at him as he walked up and sat next to her.

"Hello, I'm Harry," he started, as he mentally face-palmed at his totally lame introduction.

"Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass," she muttered, still glaring. She held out her hand, and after a second, he'd understood and brushed his lips over the air on the top of her hand.

Her glare hadn't changed, but her eyes clearly showed surprise at his knowledge in Pureblood customs.

"You starting Hogwarts this year?" he tried again. By now Madame Malkin was taking his measurements and talking to a notepad that was taking vigorous notes on his sizes for her.

"Yes," was all he got in reply. By now she wasn't even looking at him, instead examining her manicured fingernails as an assistant measured the length of her opposite arm.

" _At least she isn't ignoring you, try something else, dimwit,"_ Harry thought to himself.

"Er, what house do you want to be sorted into? Wait, no, let me guess. Hufflepuff?" He plastered on his cheekiest grin (he'd learned from Sirius, after all), and was rewarded with a small snort and the tiniest of smiles from the girl.

"Oh yes, Harry. You've got me figured out for sure," she said with a totally straight face, the glare softening a touch.

But before he could formulate an equally witty reply, the assistant bowed and said her robes would arrive at her home within two days. A beautiful blonde woman came forward and paid, leaving a generous tip and small smile for the assistant.

She turned her eyes towards her daughter, and with a wordless command, the two glided from the shop.

Before she left, the younger girl gave him a small wave, and Harry's cheeks heated up and he gave her his biggest grin.

Walking with Sirius, still grinning like a loon, they made their way toward what he had been most excited about: Ollivander's Wand Shop.

A small bell announced their presence, and Sirius opted to stand rather than to sit in the spindly chair in the corner.

After a moment, a whispery voice came from his left, and an extremely papery and wispy-looking old man caught him off guard.

"Mr. Potter-Black and Lord Black, it is an honor to have you both in my shop. Lord Black, ebony, twelve and a quarter inches, with a feather from an exceptionally proud griffin. Nearly shredded me to ribbons when I plucked him, but alas, here we stand. Particularly good for dueling and transfiguration. It still serves you well?" probed Ollivander.

"As well as the day I bought it with my father," Sirius graciously replied.

Harry had tuned out everything following his godfather's wand description and was examining the shop around him. In many ways, it was identical to the wand crafter.

The shop was extremely old, and everything had a light layer of dust on it, including the wand on a cushion out in the window. It was lit by two gas lamps, and there were at least a thousand wands, stacked ten meters high to the ceiling. It left Harry idly wondering if Albus Dumbledore had bought his wand from this man in this shop, with nothing having changed.

" _Perhaps I'll ask him come the 1st,"_ Harry mused.

"Mr. Potter-Black, which arm do you favor?"

"Both."

And with that, a small tape measure began darting around his head, calculating some standard things, like shoulder to palm, and then odd things, like the distance between his eyes and the circumference of his head.

They went on what seemed like all afternoon, and there was a pile of tried wands so high, Harry was beginning to wonder if there were many left in the shop. After huffing tossing an eleven inch, holly, and Phoenix feather combination onto the stack, he finally let a bit of his frustration and worry show.

Sirius just looked amused.

"Hmm, I wonder..." came the voice of Ollivander from down one of the many aisles.

"Try this, Mr. Potter-Black, eleven and one half inches, holly, and the heartstring of a brute of a thestral. The creature was both intelligent and a fighter, when alive, and it took four other thestrals to take him down in the wild. They'd had a spat over territory or mating rights, I believe. Anyway, this wand is excellent for dueling and battle magic, but would excel in any branch of magic, in the right hands." Ollivander had finished his speech by offering Harry the wand, handle-first.

As he wrapped his fingers around the handle, warmth surged through him and sparks shot out of the tip. Winds whipped around the small shop, and Harry briefly saw his own eyes glowing green in his reflection in the shop window. Ollivander ignored the mess and applauded, and Sirius gave a small smirk of approval.

Fifteen galleons poorer, he and Sirius exited the shop, with Ollivander bowing them out. His small hand was still wrapped around his new wand handle, the addicting warmth making him tingle from head to toe.

A small smile graced his lips as he and Sirius walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

" _Look out Hogwarts,"_ he thought. " _Ready or not, here I come."_

 _A/N:_

 _What do you lot think? Drop a comment and let me know._

 _Mr. P_


End file.
